It could have been a week before my father died, when my husband and I arrived in Paris and drove south for early site research to prepare for his invitation to the 2006 Winter Olympics (www.paintingsbelowzero.blogspot.com).
As we traveled to Turin, my father was admitted to hospital in Ventura, California. Emails and phone calls from my sister reached me in each city as we journeyed, as she tried to keep me updated about our father’s life-threatening condition, and I connected deeply with her during that time. Finally my husband and I turned back towards the west, from the small Italian town of Fenestrelle, a journey that took more than 36 hours on buses, trains and airplanes. When we arrived in Los Angeles, I learned that my father had survived the night.
The complex feelings of fear (of never seeing my father alive again) of nostalgia, of love and dread and confusion I had held under my skin as we shook and rattled in trains, buses, taxis and planes instantly transformed to relief and a flood of joy when I saw my brother Christopher who had arrived at the hotel, offering to drive us up to Ventura.
My relationship with him had, in the past few years had been uneven. We were all raised up together in a military-Catholic-Goldwater-Nixon-Ford-Reagan Republican family. Chris followed in our father’s outspoken right-wing footsteps and at the time, seemed to have a bottomless sense of the unfairness of life. (Clinton was President). He complained about ‘uppity women’, too much government, immigrants and Liberals. You can probably tell that I’m an uppity woman and to me, ‘liberal’ is not a dirty word. So we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye. When I overheard conversations with him and others in the family who shared the views we had been raised with, I covered my ears and slunk away, feeling the alien.
There were other incidents. I sent a story I had written to his daughter to celebrate the birth of his grandson. Somehow, Christopher intercepted my story. It’s a gutsy piece of theatre I call “Gertie”, a woman in a wheelchair with only one good arm gives birth (after 3 abortions) and realizes when she sees her child with normal arms and legs that she is in fact, whole. Lots of opportunity in that piece, for people who are so inclined, to take offense. “When he said, “Don’t you ever send your ‘art’ to my home again!” I could feel my blood pressure rise. He made me angry. I don’t even know if his daughter ever saw the story. It was easy to hate him then.
When news filtered through that his other daughter was using drugs, I felt an awakening of compassion. I had a son, younger, but vulnerable. I was so glad he wasn’t on the streets, fighting for his life like Christopher’s daughter was. I did research, tried to find a place she could detox. Sent brochures, cds, links to articles. Just to let him know I saw him suffering. I was still miles and miles away, and there wasn’t much I could do.
But now, at the airport, as my father lay dying, I was so glad to see Christopher! My brother! The one who was Swamp Fox in the dusty back yard, as we ran around in summer, fighting The Red Coats. My handsome older brother who attracted the prettiest girls in high school.
The one who enlisted in the Navy and served in Vietnam – the one we were really glad to see when he made it home alive. Now he was here, flesh and blood before me, volunteering to drive me up the coast and take me back into the fold of our family. Surprised but joyful, I hugged him, overcome with love for him and an overwhelming sense of connectedness with him and every single person in my family.
My father had already slipped into unconsciousness and we were left to make decisions for his well-being — how to care for him, or should we let him go? These questions are trying at the best of times.
But it was the beginning of my relationship with Christopher. A few days later, my father died, having given me this gift, somehow, through his death. The gift of Christopher. I got my brother back.
The transformation that Christopher went through as a parent of a child with a drug addiction has changed him profoundly. His daughter is recovered. Chris is humble and generous and has a realistic attitude about himself and his own ‘stuff’. He’s got a sense of humor, an acceptance of life, his life without a functioning kidney. He is a person who counts his blessings. And he has tremendous bravery and goodwill in the face of his challenge.
Here he is (above) with his daughter Keelin at a New York Life Insurance awards dinner.
In the last few years, Christopher’s kidneys faltered then failed. Now, in order to stay alive, he sits for hours while his blood is drained from his body – and cleansed – the job his kidneys did for him all his life. Although there are many children in the family in which we both grew up, most are ineligible to donate. One of my brothers has already given his kidney to one of my sisters, whose kidneys also failed more than ten years ago. Others are the wrong blood type, or have medical conditions that prevent them from being a match.Recently, after a brother and sister were both tested and rejected as suitable donors, I reached out on a blog (www.mybrotherneedsakidney.blogspot.ca) and shared on Facebook. And within a couple of weeks I heard from someone.
My name is Kayla. I’m 27 and from Redlands, California. (Kayla with her brother, above)
My boyfriend (life partner), Shannon- (43 years old, above) went into Chronic Kidney Failure November 2013. He needs a transplant but his blood type is “O negative” and he has no family members other than his aging mother (an avid smoker) who can’t donate. My blood type is A+. As off-color as this may sound, I’m willing to trade my kidney in exchange for a compatible kidney for Shannon.
I know this is a long shot, but I saw your blog and I thought..
Maybe. You never know.
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If you are interested in being part of this amazing life-altering event, and you are Type O and in good health, and you want to consider donating your kidney to Shannon, please contact me by email at caitlin (at) caitlinhicks dot com We can put you in contact with a kidney donor team to begin the testing process.
My sister’s life was transformed completely when she received my brother Tim’s kidney. If we can find a compatible Type “O” donor, two people and their families could have their lives back.
See www.mybrotherneedsakidney.blogspot.com for more information on Chris & kidney info.
